


'all times I have enjoy'd greatly, have suffer'd greatly'

by je_t_oublie



Series: Tis Not Too Late [4]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Bad Family Dynamics, Classical allusions, Gen, M/M, Our eternal Tennyson theme, Panic Attacks, Referenced Quodo, Theories on why Julian left DS9 for Cardassia, could be construed as a emotional abuse from Bashir's parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 18:38:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19179127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/je_t_oublie/pseuds/je_t_oublie
Summary: A too innocent tone to the increasingly ridiculous warnings to watch his safety as he left in the morning, streets to avoid with unstable architecture, plants that caused allergic reactions to Cardassian's that could affect humans, rogue Obsidian Order leftovers.“Do try not to let Starfleet kidnap you before your evening plans to move that rubble away from my garden.”Julian walked straight into the doorframe on his way out, and Garak was smiling, Julian just knew it.





	'all times I have enjoy'd greatly, have suffer'd greatly'

**Author's Note:**

> "All the times I have enjoy'd,  
> Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those  
> That loved me, and alone, on shore, and when  
> Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades  
> Vext the dim sea: I am become a name;  
> For always roaming with a hungry heart"  
> Alfred Lord Tennyson, Ulysses.
> 
>  
> 
> (There is also a Kira part of this I posted as a part before (literally minutes before) that may not be as findable, not being directly in the Julian Bashir/Elim Garak relationship tag.)

It had taken a season before Garak had broached the topic in a way that wasn’t subtle enough to slip by Julian’s radar, a long season of days of working in the hospital alongside Kelas or Ippus, evenings spent adding to the walls of his makeshift home as the brutal day’s heat cooled, nights curved around each other on the single bedmat that fit on the floor of the shed and both waking from nightmares neither of them acknowledged. A season to grow accustomed with the proximity of one another they hadn’t even shared on the station, of languages that seemed more difficult to quite mesh in this new and old world. 

It had taken what Julian suspected Garak must have considered a joke to catch on to the level of frustration Garak must have been feeling in not having the entire answer, of Julian just appearing out of the blue with a bag, a breather and his declaration of belonging to Cardassia. A too innocent tone to the increasingly ridiculous warnings to watch his safety as he left in the morning, streets to avoid with unstable architecture, plants that caused allergic reactions to Cardassian's that could affect humans, rogue Obsidian Order leftovers. And this one, as Julian had pulled the long strap of his bag over his shoulder and double checked the seal of his respirator.

“Do try not to let Starfleet kidnap you before your evening plans to move that rubble away from my garden.” 

Julian walked straight into the doorframe on his way out, and Garak was smiling, Julian just knew it. 

-

“Do tell me, doctor, was it a fear of possibly seeing the Constable and Quark reuniting that drove you from the station?” And had water not been such a desperately precious resource, Julian would have choked and spat it out at the perfectly timed inquiry. 

-

“The holosuites gained sentience, and the station was flooded with Greek soldiers and their delightful colour scheme?”  
“Their colour scheme, really Garak?”  
“Oh I quite admired them. For all you call them ancient, they were closer to what a Cardassian was than your race is now.”

-

“You left Deep Space Nine after… your parents returned and insisted you make a honest woman out of Ms. Dax in the overwrought manner of one of the Constable’s romantic novels.” 

Julian’s lips thinned, and he grimaced at the metallic taste of Cardassia, present even when the dust was settled and the skies stretched forever, warm to him even in their winter shades. 

“No,” and his voice was tighter than he wanted, Garak's stillness proof he had tasted the change from playful teasing to something he might fold into Julian’s past. 

“They called me, when my father finished his prison sentence. A new start. Asked me when they were going to get grandchildren as if I would want to allow a child near them after-“ he snapped his teeth closed, his secret no longer his own for years but still with the instinct to keep the words locked behind his teeth. “As if I wanted, or was even allowed to pass on my genetics. We only want what’s best for you. Look at the sacrifices we made for your future.” 

“So they don’t know you’re here.” 

“And they won’t know.” 

-

“Colonel Kira introduced you to her training methods and you chose exile rather than certain death?”

And that garnered a curious look more than amusement or displeasure. “Were they really that bad?” 

Garak bowed, an over dramatic and sweeping flourish that was ridiculously human and old fashioned, and he had to have picked it up from something Julian had shown him and he couldn’t remember but it was so ridiculous and out of place amongst the rubble and dust that Julian couldn’t help but laugh. 

“May I introduce you to the last living member of the living Cardassian rebellion cells.” And that stopped Julian's laughter in his tracks-

“Oh my god, I am so sorry, El-“ 

“They died for what they wanted the State to be. Colonel Kira excepted, of course.” Garak interrupted. “Sacrifices must be made for democracies, doctor.”

-

“You grew bored without your lunch companion.” And Julian flinched, his hands scraping on the rough piece of wood he had recovered from an empty house's foundation and was shaping into a window frame. Garak's fingers were moving carefully along the vine that covered what was now the roof, checking the installation had not cut any vital arteries, and they did not still as his barb hit a precise mark. He lifted a cluster of the dark berries, checking their meagre water supply had not been too little for their development, patient for the reply now he knew at least the broad strokes. 

“I had no end of lunch companions. War veteran Julian Bashir, after all. Dominion camp survivor Julian Bashir.” 

There was a smear of blood on the wood Julian had been shaping, incongruously bright before it soaked in to the dark, dense wood Cardassia had once grown. He hadn’t even seemed enthused to his own ears. Garak didn’t speak, fingers still curled in the berries he had once warned Julian away from, and waited. The clink of a tool being returned to its siblings and muffled footsteps in the dust did not take long, Julian looking away from his work, staring up into a sky that was still bright and clear, no glints he could guess at being Bajor. 

“There was a man named Odysseus. Remember, Ulysses in the Aeneid?” Julian looked for any recognition of the name, eyes gliding over the statue that was Garak and turned his face back up, looking for the stars that weren’t there. “He spent ten years trying to get home after a war. All those adventures, giants, witches, the final frontier “ he affected a dramatic pose for those last three famous words, hand over his heart, chin raised and jaw proudly squared before his shoulders collapsed in on themselves, hunched as he began to pace, long legs devouring the earth, his turns sharp and angry.

“All that, and all he wanted was to see his wife and son, his family he had missed and still loved after twenty years. But do you know what he realised after about a year of being home? He couldn’t stop. It wasn’t magic, it wasn’t him not loving his family but this was no home for him, the same old stars in the same old sky. Deep Space Nine was a home for me, but like for Odysseus, it ended and I can’t stay there. I loved Ezri, I still had Quark and Kira and Morn to tell me about his nieces, but I wasn’t the same person. I'm not Jules, but I can’t be the Julian that first stepped onto that space station.” 

He spun, finger jabbing towards Garak as if in sudden remembrance that he was there, that this wasn’t a confession to his own soul, to the walls in his own quarters that had become a prison of echoing memories.  
“And I'm not going to say your letter had nothing to do with this, or that coming here wasn't something that I had thought about the moment the casualties from the Dominion war were finalized. Cardassia needed help, and I knew that without your letter, but I was selfish and wanted what I had before. What I had never had before. And now I'm here, being selfish again because I'm not here for you, or because Cardassia needs help, any help, I'm here for me. I wanted this and it doesn’t matter if you want me to leave. Hell, I'll stay out of your hair if you really want, but these are my boundless seas. This is where I can do what I was meant to as Odysseus was meant to explore.”

His breaths were coming too quickly for the arid Cardassian environment, a flare of anger in his breast which only blazed when he thought of his parents or when he couldn’t help, couldn’t twist those already twisted genes into something useful like they had meant to have been and he flung his arms out to encompass these skies that held under them countless new things for him to see, words and plants and people to heal, a bone deep ache for adventure and discovery that holographic suites could no longer quench. 

“Why, my dear doctor,” and Garak's voice was soft, considerate in a way that he had never heard but deflated him, suddenly small under the expanse of blues in the skies, the bundle of richly dark blue berries idle in clawed hands, pale blue eyes, the history that stretched every way around them and none of them were the blue of the Starfleet sciences division. Julian tried to meet his eyes, he did, but he couldn’t stop the panicked breathing, the shaking of adrenaline in his hands that came of shouting to the uncaring sky his deepest secrets, the things he loathed most about himself. 

The blues were blotted out by arms around him, one hand pressing into his hair to push his head down to conceal his eyes in the thick fabric that covered Garak's shoulder and the other arm strong around his waist. The metallic strong of Cardassia was stronger on Garak, and Julian focused his breaths on Garak’s own inhales and exhales, slow and calm and his own hands began to relax from the claws they had become where he had clutched the fabric on the thick tunic, reassurance in his solidity and in the darkness he provided. They stood long enough for Julian’s breathing to steady out, his heartbeat no longer a desperate thump that must have travelled through Garak’s own chest because his grip loosened, permission for Julian to let go but not an order. 

When they finally did disentangle, Garak’s face was free of judgement and Julian was flushed, the after effects of the panic attack leaving him shaken and embarrassed even in front of someone he had seen in the thralls of his own attack. 

“Then welcome to the frontier, Julian. Welcome to my home.” And Julian laughed, faintly hysterical, and folded down to press his face into Garak’s shoulder again, hands coming up catch him and his voice muffled in the fabric. 

“Did Kira tell everyone about that?” 

“We had a lot of time to fill in the cellar, my dear.”

**Author's Note:**

> Neck deep in researching for a multi-chaptered Legally Blonde the musical fic and I found this in an untitled document. I was born on the same day as one of the garashir episodes aired, pretty sure that means I can never escape. If the reunion was the first part of 'tis not too late I scribbled down in my notebook, Julian's reasoning was the second. 
> 
> Slightly off topic, but I had the absolute pleasure of seeing a panel with the actors for Trip Tucker and Malcolm Reed (from Star Trek Enterprise) at Christchurch Armageddon June 1st, and asking a question that led to them badmouthing Rick Berman (I consider being called conservative and controlling being badmouthed (It was about controversary around The Stigma, the barely veiled HIV episode.)) They were a pleasure to talk to, and very funny but I did get into a back and forth with the host when we disagreed on which Star Trek series was best. He warned the audience if he were found murdered, it would be the wee Data cosplayer. As if I would risk getting blood on my carefully made cosplay.
> 
> The names Ulysses and Odysseus are interchangeable - Latin vs the original Greek. I referred to the Aeneid here as my first ever garashir story was them discussing it. Just double checked, and Ulysses is definitely mentioned by Aeneas in Book II.


End file.
